Castles Made Of Sand
by imyownpeople
Summary: What happened after Naruto left with Jiraiya? A lot changed during those two radical years. This story focused on everyone in the Naruto world. Chapter 4 rated Mature OrochimaruSasuke.
1. Vulnerability

Disclaimer::: I don't own any of the characters, places, or anything of the like that I'm writing about. I don't own it at all, I just like making interesting stories with it's characters.

Warning:: This particular fanfic is not for the faint of heart. In my personal opinion it is rated R for: Adult Themes, Adult Language, Crude Humor and Violence. This is no joke, you've been warned.

Extra Clarification:: This story is not written in usual style. The chronological order may throw you off as you read deeper and deeper into it. The beginning takes place 2 and 1/2 months after Naruto leaves with Jiraiya. ANLAfter Naruto Left/Leaves

Enjoy!

-+

The sound of running water pitter-pattered gently as it hit flesh. By the feel of the air the water was almost searing in temperature, though slick precipitation did not stick to the many glass mirrors that lines the circular walls. It was like being in a circus 'fun' house, though the bathing room was much more lavish. A chandelier hung gloriously from the golden, high domed-ceiling. It's light source was the sun, which shined in by the form of golden rays from strategically placed rectangular windows built into the dome. The sun's rays would reach the tiny, shimmering crystals that hung from the chandelier, which made the light scatter around the room in disco-ball fashion.

Timidly she crossed the four foot hallway, leaving the safety of the doorway. Her small silk slippered feet hesitated before she tested the ground with her big toe, like a swimmer testing cold waters, the small foot retreating beside the idle one after a few seconds. Next, her head would peak around the tiled corner, shoulder length brown hair swaying in her momentum. Her big brown eyes grew wider at what she saw...

Matsuri never noticed the tiles that she stood on, but when the chandelier's light caught her eyes her mouth dropped in astonishment. The square slabs were colored a mesmerizing gold and crimson, and even though they were just dyed that way and made from hardened sand and clay, Matsuri was caught in awe. There were rows of gold faucet sinks along the circular walls, each one coupled with a grand mirror that seemed to extend to the ceiling. At the very end of the east side was a horizontally curved glass wall. Upon further inspection, this wall had it's own doorway concealed in it. The glass was heavily fogged with steam, and the sounds of shower came from that direction.

Matsuri's eyes were keen, and she stared at the shower for a while before figuring, against her better judgement, that her master was occupied and thus she was safe. She would cross the distance between the hall and the counter-tops where the sinks were, her movements silent and calculated. The hairs on her body stood on end as if she were cold, though that possibility was void, as the temperature in the bathing room reached past ninety degrees Fahrenheit. A tentative hand reached out to touch the pearl countertop, her eyes looking up at her reflection. Her heart beat sped up, her forehead beading cold sweat. What she saw shocked her.

It seemed that even after her two month period in her master's chambers her hair, which had been previously just past her ears, was now to her shoulders; a look at she did not particularly care for. It was glossier too, the healthy sheen also reaching her skin. But her skin and hair were not the only things to have enhanced. Her body once had taken a girls form, though now it was enhanced and becoming womanly in appearance. She didn't have much time to lounge on her vanity however, as less than a second after she had reached the counter-tops, the water stopped. It took her a minute to realized the sudden loss of noise, but a single second was too late.

Her scream could be heard from halfway down the castle's main corridor, though it lasted less than a second in duration. A gag of sand filled her mouth, and she instantly knew that if she did not close her throat then it would unmercifully fill her lungs and stomach, causing a painful death. Her hands clasped her throat, her knees issuing a dull thump as she fell on the tiles beneath.

Matsuri sprawled on the bathroom floor via her hands and knees, sand spilling out of her mouth. She still could not cough as the sand would only get sucked back into her body, though her body was twitching and convulsing as it struggled to fight the impulse.

As if things could not get any worse, something hard and heavy crushed against her back, hitting her dead squared on her shoulders and spine. Her chest would fall violently onto the tiles, her breath leaving her body in a great tuft of air from her mouth, dispelling the sand that was still there.

Her watery eyes looked up slowly, it taking a moment before the brown orbs could focus on anything. In the distance, a few feet away from were she clambered in destitution, was her master.

A ginger-haired male stood nonchalantly by the linen closet, the doors slightly ajar. He was deliberately slow in his actions, wrapping a crimson towel around his waist just below his navel. With one hand he closed the closet, the other one grasping the towel that was loosely around his waist. The whole time he had yet to turn around the face the girl, as if she weren't even there. Now though, his head slowly turned to look at her.

His eyes were stained with black along the lids, heavy bags accenting beneath them, a result of a life without sleep. He bore a thin nose with petite nostrils, and thin boyish lips. His neck was thick for his stature, which was compact and muscular, though still pubescent in it's height and build. His skin was light for one who had lived in Sunagakure his whole life, it placid as if the sun had never kissed it. He was easily a figure of around 5'7, though weighing in at a hardy 155 lbs because of his muscle. Though if one were to see him, he would hardly look past 135 lbs.

The look on his face was more than enough to make her heart weep. His lips were pursed, though his clear green eyes were the one's smiling, showing all of their perverse amusement. Slowly he would walk towards her belittled form, droplets of water running down his slick, clean skin and forming puddles at his feet.

He stood in front of her, condescending green orbs looking down at her head. She had no choice but to bow her head in a mix of shame and fear. Her voice came out hoarse, as her lungs strained to breath with the heavy slab of sand on her back.

"I... I'm sorry Gaara-sama."

His facial expression did not change, though there was an air about him that would make one tell he was pleased. After awhile he would speak,

"You deliberately sneak into the one place that you know."

He would pause, waiting for her to catch up. His voice was purely apathetic, never betraying the emotions that his eyes so well portrayed for him.

"You're most vulnerable." She managed to say through the pain.

By this time a majority of Gaara's skin had dried naturally, and the sand that was on her back drifted up to his skin, his armor returning to him.

There would be a long silence and huge tention. Then he would sigh, shaking his head to the side and walking past her, out of the door. The sand followed him, until he closed the door behind him, the substance falling to the floor.

Matsumi's sobs filled the empty bathing chambers.

-+


	2. Bond of Brothers

2 Days Later

3:35 am

The Kazekage's Private Gymnasium

--+

A ball of sand formed around his fist as it flew through the air. The brown haired young man that it was aimed at quickly back flipped out of the way, landing a good distance away from the attacker.

"Good move, Gaara." He would say with a small tentative smile. He would straighten out his form, regaining his posture. The young man who spoke was clearly older than the male who threw the punch. His brown eyes showed his fatigue at being awake at such an hour, though other than that there was no real indication that he was tired. He moved up and down on his toes like a boxer, his heavy arms swaying up and down in front of his body as he revved himself up. The eldest also had a height advantage of a good five to six inches. His frame was bigger, his shoulders broader, and his body heavier with a small layer of fat covering the large muscle underneath. All of this was clearly visible as he only wore black silk sleep pants, with no shirt covering his torso. His eyes were smaller than Gaara's, his jaw profound, though the two of them had the same haircut.

Gaara would say nothing. Instead he ran towards his brother, both hands in fists behind him as he rushed forward, preparing to swing. Kankuro found that all he had to do was wait for his brother, his eyes studying and mentally countering all of his flaws. Gaara threw the other punch coated with sand at kankuro's head. Kankuro had thought it out, and would simply duck under the punch, replacing it with an uppercut straight into Gaara's gut. The hit was nothing but perfection, and he could feel Gaara's weight collapsing on his fist. But Kankuro was not done yet.

He would quickly transfer his weight to one leg, bringing the other up in a full blown roundhouse to the head. Gaara would be thrown backward from the sheer force of the kick, the sand armor on his chin cracking just a little where it impacted. Still, Kankuro was having too much guilty fun to stop. All of his frustration came out in his blows, all of his anger at this little kid who held so much power over everyone. Beating him with his bare fists would feel so good right now, and the opportunity was just around the bend. He knew full well that Gaara's taijutsu was nonexistent, and he had alterer motives for 'teaching' his little brother some moves. It was too early in the morning for anyone to do anything about it... And well, Daddy wasn't here now was he?

Kankuro wouldn't skip a beat, and Gaara's body hadn't even touched the ground when he raised his leg again. He meant for a solid kick to the back of the head, though right before the heel of his foot came in contact with Gaara it would stop. His leg was completely rendered motionless, suspended in midair without his control. It was only when he realized, too late, that his leg was getting wrapped in a cocoon of sand. His eyes would widen in horror looking at the leg that was almost completely covered in sand, then to his brother who was standing there with his arms crossed over his shirtless chest, his white silk bed pants dirtied from the sand. The expression of Gaara's face was one of utter impassiveness as the sand writhed and pulsed as if it were alive. Kankuro had no other choice but to plead desperately.

"Gaara... Come on put my leg down. We said we wouldnt use that kind of stuff..."

He tried to keep his voice calm and friendly, though as he stared into his brother apathetic eyes he began to anger.

They all had bad tempers, just each in his or her own way. Temari was aggressive and blunt, and if anyone even thought of crossing her they would have automatic hell to pay. Kankuro was more laid back, not the kind of guy that gets angry easily, and even when he did his anger passed him quickly. It was a blind fury, but done before anyone even knew what hit them.

_But Gaara_... He thought, looking into his brother's cold eyes... _Gaara's a monster._

"Gaara... I said let go." His voice had dropped to a low growl, his eyes narrowing.

Gaara tilted his head to the side, his eyes wide and unblinking. One couldn't tell if he was pleased by what he saw, or if he were thinking about something deeper than all of this. It was this very uncertainty that scared Kankuro the most. After a long, tense moment, Gaara would speak.

"I want to talk."

Kankuro looked at his brother in astonishment. He had never in his wildest dreams thought that this day would happen, or those words would come out of his mouth. It was unbelievable, and Kankuro was sure that this was all his imagination, his mind running wild from the lack of oxygen that one faced when being trapped in the desert coffin. His voice was frail, as if he just woke up from a deep sleep.

"...What?"

The sand started to retreat away from Kankuro's leg and back towards Gaara, who mentally directed it ino the ground. Gaara's face showed a mix of confusion, embarrassment and anger at being questioned, though even these expressions were faint.

"So you don't want to?" Gaara raised an eyebrow, turning his shoulders away from Kankuro's unsteady form as if he were going to leave, though keeping an eye on his brother...

"No!" Kankuro shouted before he could think, raising a hand towards Gaara as if to grab him so he didnt leave... "I mean... Yes... Yes.. I'll talk to you Gaara..."

This was all too confusing and too weird for them both, the silence only making it worse.

"I'm honored." Kankuro would finally whisper, bowing his head slightly in his lack of words.

Gaara raised his head up, looking up at Kankuro as he did the same. The silence would fill the room for a good minute, no one moving as they just stared at each other, a bond being created between the two of them that only brother's would know. Finally Gaara would shrug and sit down 'Indian' style, on the sandy tiled floor. Kankuro would do the same soon after, resting his hands on his knees.

After another long minute.

"So... What do you want to talk about?"

Gaara stared straight ahead, his eyes blank as he tried to convey absolutely no emotion.

"Ask me a question."

Kankuro was a bit taken aback, but he saw this as an opportunity.

"Dad's gone." Kankuro would start, staring at Gaara for any indication of anything. "Are you ok? You've never spoken about it..."

"No." Gaara would cut him off... "Don't ask me about that."

This was turning out to be more than Kankuro bargained for, but then again what did he expect?

"Okay..." He started again... "How's Mitsuki? She's still your student right?"

There was a long silence, and Kankuro wondered if he had struck a chord.

"She's not improving as I want her to."

The way that Gaara said this meant that he did not wish to discuss the subject any further.

This was all too much and too strange for Kankuro, so he clasped his hands and stood up to dismiss himself. Walking out of the door, he left Gaara in the darkness of the gym.

--


	3. The Pain of a Princess

3 Months ANL

Konoha

-+

The courtyards boundaries were defined by white granite walls. The cobbles that paved the paths leading to the circular clearing were made out of the same materials, all white and each cut in the same hexagonal pattern. Everything here was white and orderly, like a vision one would have of heavens secret garden, a matronly paradise.

It wasn't completely silent in the courtyard. Natural sounds- such as birdsongs and foraging creatures as they got ready for the impending chill- broke the silence that could have been. It was a place of haven, sanctuary and peace.

The weather today was usual for early fall. The leaves had not yet fallen from the decorative trees that were placed according to Zen around the courtyard. The grass was muted, but still an admirable shade of green and the seasonal flowers were still heavily in bloom.

The sun shone brightly on the clearing in the middle. There were no benches to sit on, only the cold white cobbled stone, though that did not dissuade Lady Hinata. She sat with her legs tucked under her, hands on top of her lap, one resting on top of the other. Her head was tilted downward, eyes closed as if she were asleep. But she was far from slumber. Her body was still, her breath soft and calm, but inside her mind was racing.

She was anything but calm, she was hurting deeply inside.

All of her thoughts were on only two people: Herself and…

How could she have been so stupid?

No one wanted her…

…_And for me to be so blind. What use is it to have Byakugan if I am blind to the truth?_

The pain was so intense.

_How? How could I have been so blatantly naïve? How can I look at myself? How can he look at me? I will never be good enough._

It hurt to breath.

_And…I'll never be good enough. I don't deserve to be a Hyuga. I'm too weak…_

_You're too weak Hinata!_

A slight whimper would escape her lips. She meant for it to be a scream, and the fact that it wasn't infuriated her.

_Look! Stupid weak Hinata! You can't hurt anything! You can't even hurt your own precious vocal cords!_

Her minds voice was meaner and nastier than she had ever spoken. It frightened her.

_Weak Hinata. Your own father doesn't like you. He doesn't love you Hinata. In fact he loves me more._

It was Neji's voice, and it continued.

_It was you who killed my father Hinata. If you were from the branch family you would be dead for your failure. In fact, you should be dead._

Another voice,

_No one would miss you, Hinata. Die._

It was her sister's cruel, childish voice.

Hinata was holding her arms with her hands now, her body lightly shaking.

"Na… Naruto…"

_Oh… He won't come. If you haven't noticed he never comes._

It was her own harsh voice again, with its own harsh reality.

_What do you think he's doing out there? With Jiraiya no less? You know what the Hyugas think of the 'legendary sannin'. They are nothing but drunkards, murderers and perverts. Which do you think Jiraiya is?_

"No."

_No? What do you think Naruto's doing with that pervert?_

No

_What do you think Naruto's done with Sakura?_

"No."

_Yes_

"Hinata?"

The voice made her heart skip. It was not that this person was anything special; it was just that it startled her abruptly from her thoughts. Plus, she didn't even recognize the voice at first.

"Are you alright?"

It was Neji. She could recognize that voice anywhere, as the words he had just spoken still resonated in her mind, poisoning her thoughts.

She fought the bitter urge to scream, also fighting the stronger urge to cry. Feeling the tears on her eyes, she would quickly raise an oversized white sleeve up to her face, The wet drops of her tears spread across the fabric, but at least they did that sting her face.

She would not, could not turn to face him. Anger built up inside of her as she fought back the pain of her shame. Her eyes stared straight ahead, looking at the white brick wall a few yards away.

"Wha… What are you doing he… here?"

Her will broke with every accursed stutter that left her mouth. Her timid, mild voice was a direct betrayal of her inner self, which was screaming for release. The pain was emotional, but it may as well have been physical … She was suffocating.

"I…"

It gave her a guilty pleasure to hear him stumble on a word- Hear _him_ struggle for what to say.

"I know I'm not supposed to be here…"

"Why are you he… here Neji?"

Her voice was a shaky whisper. She was grateful for him being here, but she was angry and confused all the same. Did she like tormenting herself? And if not, then why did she want him to leave so badly?

She felt him take a step closer- A single cautious step.

"Hinata, please don't raise your voice."

She tried to smirk, but it only came out a muffled sob. She wonted to tell him, 'I couldn't raise my voice if I tried, and you should know that by now.'

"… If I am caught it won't matter who I am. You know that."

_I know that full well. A branch family slave is not allowed in the main house or on any of its grounds without permission. And by the way you're acting Neji, you don't have permission._

"My… question…" _Is unanswered Neji._

She felt another step.

"I'll be taking my Jonin exam tomorrow." He would pause, waiting for her to say something about it.

She would not speak no praise or taunt escaping her lips… Her mind did the talking.

_So what? I won't be watching your advance._

After a moment he would add,

"I'm not inviting you to come. I just wanted to ask you something."

More silence, and by his movements one could tell his embarrassment was rising. After another minute of silence he would speak again.

"You need training Hinata. You can't advance the way you are now."

She would turn her head in shock, the first sudden movement she had made in hours. Her eyes were wide muted orbs looking at him for the first time.

He was very tall, his height being the first thing that she noticed about him. She hadn't seen him in what seemed like such a long time, actually avoiding him at all costs. She couldn't believe how much time had changed him. The wiry boy who she remembered was gone. Traditional Hyuga robes adorned his body, a signature of his dedication to the family. Everything about him seemed to radiate with maturity and understanding. Everything about him seemed to radiate with everything that she was not. Looking up into his eyes she could see the Byakugan on his features. The veins no longer spread only to the sides of his face. They stretched down to his cheeks, the furthest reaching ones going to his chin. His range must have been amazing.

Her astonishment must have shown on her face, as for an instant Neji glowed with pride.

"Hinata, I want to train you."

She would quickly look down at the ground, wanting to see anything but him. Before she had time to respond, Neji would cut in,

"I'm sorry Hinata. I have to go, tell me your response later."

She didn't hear him leave, nor did she see him, but she knew he was gone. He must've seen somebody.

She lolled over his words…

_I'm sorry Hinata._

_I want to train you._

Everything was now changing.

Tears came back, and so did thoughts of him…

"Naruto…"

Change was inevitable.

-+-

((Little Notes))

From here on out Im going to make the title of each chapter in relation to what the chapter is about. The time lapse will be posted at the beginning of each chapter. Remember ANL After Naruto Left


	4. Winter

This chapter is very very mature.

You have been warned of its rateing.

Orochimaru+Sasuke.

\\---------#--//

And so it seems that the winter months are setting in. I was a bit skeptic at first about the particular severity of the cold, but the leaves have now shed the branches of their host trees just as a parasite does a warm-blooded creature in the creature's time of death.

In all my years I have never been keen on the aspect of writing for writing's sake. Unlike an old friend of mine, I will never assume that the world desires to read what comes out of my mind. In my opinion, the first one thus far, people who write books are simply arrogant.

I am writing to writing's sake now because I have no one but myself to turn to. Not to sound cocky, but a man with power is a man with enemies. My thoughts are my own, and I can trust no one but myself with them. This letter to me will be burned as soon as I am finished writing it- as soon as I can understand it myself.

They say that with age comes wisdom. If that is so why don't I feel any smarter? My ambition is a realistic one, and I should have completed it by now. Why is it that my old friends seem to have progressed far beyond I? Have I not given up everything of myself? I have sacrificed it all: My relationships, my libido, my sanity, my villagers, my body…

My body.

I sit here in my chair. I sit in the dark, the dim candlelight draping shadows across the recesses of my face and clothing. They probably look like pits in this placid face of mine.

But this is not my face tonight. My hair is blond. I have not looked in the mirror for quite some time now, and I only know these things because of the annoying hair that covers not just my crown but also my chin. It invades my most private areas, like a parasite. I have not the strength to change my appearance right now. My strength is drained.

My arms rest on this damned uncomfortable wooden chair, my back slouched. These two limbs of mine are indeed freed of Sarutobe's curse, but it is my mind that is the prisoner. My pride; It roams on the brink of insanity, and with this insanity comes urges and pleasures that I have long since done away with, long since forgotten.

My senses, the 2 that I wrote off long ago, are coming back in full force. I can taste the sweetness of an apple, my tongue feeling its bumpy, grainy innards. I have bit into a bitter seed and realized its unfavorable quality. I have tasted blood.

Along with these inconveniences, a bigger one is being brought upon me by this insanity.

I can remember the moment just as a young man would remember his first time, as the feeling was much the same. I had initially been having dreams, as so many of these stories start. The dreams turned into simple curiosity, then to infatuation. I have never actually instructed the young man myself, and I do not plan on doing so anytime soon, especially in my current situation. The boy has not seen me since out brief encounter, and in my stead I've been having his new teammates and Kabuto prime him.

But on a night stunningly similar to this one, in temperature and silence, I retreated to my bathing room. The water ran over my bruised body as usual, my more seemly form upon it this particular night. It hit my pale skin making it steam as if I were in a boiling pot. The temperature mattered not, just so long as the heat kept my muscles calm. My head was down, eyes closed as I stood deep in my thoughts.

And they went immediately to the boy. I had visions of such clarity that I felt as though he were there behind me. I felt his thigh on mine, his hands resting on the place where my navel should be.

My body reacted accordingly. I felt my heart race, an action that it only preformed when I killed or tortured my victim. But it was I who was getting tortured by these thoughts- So obscene, so foul.

His fingers trailed over my flat torso and even if the water was boiling hot, his touch was the thing that melted my skin. One hand, with it's gentle fingers, trailed down my hairless stomach, exciting places that had been neglected for decades, while the other travelled upwards.

How could anyone's mere fingertips be so gentle, yet so lethal?

Three fingers stroked my neck along its length, while three from the other hand stroked…

I was leaning against the shower tile, my two hands occupied with supporting my weight, my back towards him. It was now that I realized I had not seen my captor's face, but I knew in my mind who it was, without a doubt:

_Sasuke._

I felt him lean forward, and I braced myself for what he had next in store for me; For what my mind had in store for me.

My mouth opened wide as he bit the back of my shoulder blade, a moan leaving the hallows of my throat. My tongue slithered out, wanting to taste him, to devour him, but I was ill prepared to greet my secret lover. The bite dug its teeth hard in my skin, but it was soon replaced with a kiss.

It burned!

The kiss was a peck where his fangs once were only moments ago, yet it stung like _mangekyou_, the bastard thousand knives. Another moan escaped me, long and drawn out.

Another kiss, another bite, another moan.

_Innocence, obscenity, depravity._

The boy's fingers left my shoulder, instead favoring to trail along back; My muscles spasmed, the boys long pointed nails raking skin, agitating every nerve.

The hand stopped at my backside and rested there.

The moment was tense, my breathing loud and rough, though the boy's remained as silent as ever. I did not even realize that I had been bent over until I felt his silent breath against my ear,

"_Lord Orochimaru, I will kill you_."

Pain rushed to the cheek in which Sasuke's hand was. I screamed out in pain, my mind struggling to get back to my conscious self. The boy's nails had dug into my flesh, and my blood spilt onto the watered down porcelain.

I remember feeling the water on my skin, smelling the steam. When my eyes came too, I saw my skin was red and burned from the temperature of the water. My heart was still beating rapidly, and I looked down, away from the tiles that first greeted me, just out of curiosity.

My hand was still clutching myself, white ectoplasm between my fingers.

//---------\\


End file.
